Wolf 


Patriotic  and  promiscuous  poems 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
E.  D.       Cline 


Patriotic  and 
Promiscuous  Poems 


BY 

Blair  Wolf 


Patriotic  and  Promiscuous 
Poems 


By 

BLAIR     WOLF 
Winterset,  Iowa 


CONTENTS 

The    Soldier     -  _______________7 

Retrospective  -----------__--___9 

Thirty-fifth  Iowa  -  ________  11 

Woman  and  the  Relief  Corps  -_____-.    -     ..____  13 

Hard  Tack    --_--_-__  _______      15 

Camp  Strong    -  _____________  17 

The  Women  of  Muscatine  --          ___________  19 

The  Missing  ____________  20 

The  Patriotic  Picture          ______________  23 

The  Old  Army  Shoe  -----_-_________  25 

The  Cavalry     -•---_-____________  29 

Our  Country's  Defenders    --___-________  29 

Our  Fallen   Brave     -----_-_________  30 

West  Liberty  _-----__-_________  32 

The  Woman's  Relief  Corps     _____________  33 

Decoration  Day     --___-___          _______  34 

An  Incident  ---___-________  34 

Our  Soldier  Dead     --_-_-__________  35 

Reply  ______      __36 

The   Reception     _-----__._________  37 

The  Old  Battlefield    _-------_-______  37 

Washington  ---_-____________  3g 

Putting  Down  the  Rebellion     ---________        _38 

Company  F,  Forty-Ninth  Iowa     --__-___          _     _.     _  41 

The  Ladies  of  Savannah,  Georgia     ______          _     _     _     _  43 

The  Vacant  Room     ----____________  45 

Reply  to  the  Silent  Room    -  ___________  40 

Our  Flag  _____  47 

The  Pioneers     ________________     _  _  48 

My  Sisters'  Golden  Wedding    __---_-_-____  52 

Appeal  of  the  Old  Bell    _-_--_______          __53 

McKinley  Campaign    -  _     _  _  54 

Abe    Lincoln    -_------__________  55 

Parody  on  Washington    _______________  55 

Toast  -       -       ___       __       _________  57 

Response  _____________        ____57 

For  Book  of  Quotations    -      _-_-__-_______  53 

For  the  Aged  -          ---_---_________  58 

Leap  Year    ___________________  55 

Christmas    --_--_-___-________  59 


fS 


On  the  9th  of  August,  1862,  I  enlisted  in  the  United 
States  Volunteer  Army,  for  three  years,  or  during  the  Civil 
War.  Later  our  company  (G)  was  assigned  to  the  Thirty-fifth 
Iowa  Volunteer  Infantry,  whose  first  camp  was  on  Muscatine 
Island,  near  the  city  of  Muscatine,  Iowa.  While  there  a  num 
ber  of  the  soldiers  subscribed  for  the  Muscatine  Journal.  At 
one  time  during  the  following  winter  several  of  our  regiment 
were  in  the  General  Hospital  at  Cairo,  Illinois,  myself  among 
the  number.  One  day  one  of  them  asked  me  if  I  had  seen  an 
article  of  poetry  published  in  the  "Muscatine  Journal"  and 
written  (by  a  private  of  our  regiment)  on  a  building  at  Camp 
Strong.  I  had  not  seen  the  paper,  but  asked  him  him  if  he 
could  repeat  any  of  the  lines.  After  he  repeated  some  of  them 
I  told  him  I  had  written  it  while  on  guard  there.  No  doubt 
but  I  would  have  forgotten  the  circumstance  had  it  not  been 
called  to  my  mind.  I  think  it  was  about  twenty-four  years  af 
ter  the  war  and  while  our  regimental  associations  were  having 
their  second  reunion  at  Muscatine.  I  went  to  the  "Journal" 
office  and  in  the  files  of  November,  1862,  I  easily  found  the 
following  items: 

Camp  Strong,  Nov.  14th,  1862. 

The  following  original  lines,  author  unknown,  shows  that 
there  is  a  Poet  in  the  ranks.     They  are  recorded  on  the  door 
post  of  the  Secretary's  Office  at  the  entrance     of     the     Fair 
Grounds.     The  place  is  noted  for  the  number  of  empty  clothing 
boxes,  but  very  little  else.     A  guard  is    kept    there    day    and 
night,  but  what  he  has  to  guard  is  hard  to  make  out.     As  it  is 
Beat  No.  14,  of  course  the  new  relief  does  not  pass  without  hav 
ing  a  new  guard  every  two  hours.     As  none  but  privates  are 
placed  on  the  beats,  to  one  of  that  class  belongs  the  credit,  I  give 
it  ver  batim. — 

I'll  stack  my  gun  and  write  a  line 
To  show  you  how  I  pass  the  time. 
I'm  placed  here  now  to  guard  the  door. 
And  all  this  vast  amount  of  store. 


But  soon  I'll  leave  for  Dixie's  Land 
And  never  on  this  beat  I'll  stand; 
And  when  I  leave  this  world  of  grief 
I  hope  to  join  a  new  relief. 

And  when  the  heavenly  course  I  run 
Will  need  no  bayonet  or  gun, 
But  mingle  with  the  hosts  above 
Where  all  is  harmony  and  love. 

A  large  space  might  be  filled  with  interesting  items  from 
the  guard  line  that  take  place  by  night  and  by  day.  When  I 
hear  again  from  the  author  of  the  poetry  I  will  let  you  know. 

HENRY. 

I  think  the  principal  of  the  High  School  in  my  na 
tive  place  (Marlboro,  Stark  County,  Ohio),  must  have  been 
an  enemy  to  poetry,  for  he  cautioned  us  severely  against  any 
attempt  at  such  composition.  Yet  his  idea  might  have  been  to 
keep  us  in  abeyance  until  more  mature  years,  and  then  let  the 
disposition  break  out  of  its  own  accord.  At  any  rate,  his  ad 
vice  influenced  me  for  some  seven  or  eight  years,  until  the  silent 
watches  of  Camp  Strong.  If  No.  14  had  been  a  walking  beat 
instead  of  an  irksome  standing  one,  the  muse  might  have  been 
suppressed  indefinitely.  Thanks  to  Henry  (or  whatever  his 
right  name  is)  for  rescuing  those  few  lines  from  oblivion.  Such 
as  they  were  they  were  the  cause  (in  after  years)  of  numerous 
requests  from  comrades  and  others  for  something  more  from 
my  pen.  This  caused  me  to  produce  something  occasionally.  I 
have  lost  some  of  my  productins  though  the  action  of  some 
newspaper  reporters  who  would  (after  the  adjournment  of  a 
meeting)  ire  among  the  first  to  request  copy  and  after  promis 
ing  faithfully  to  return  it,  would  never  do  so.  I  never  wrote 
for  money,  but  am  thankful  for  the  manner  in  which  my  efforts 
have  been  received ;  and  in  this  connection  I  must  mention  a 
circumstance  of  the  Spanish- American  War.  I  was  then  living 
at  Tipton,  Cedar  County,  Iowa.  Tipton  and  vicinity  furnished 
a  great  portion  of  Company  ~F,  Firty-ninth  Iowa.  After  suf- 


fering  the  heat  of  summer  and  the  ravages  of  disease,  the  regi 
ment  was  removed  in  the  fall  from  the  swamps  of  Jacksonville, 
Florida  to  the  suburbs  of  Savannah,  Georgia,  where  they  were 
treated  with  respect  by  the  people  of  the  city.  They  were  there 
but  a  short  time  before  being  orderd  to  Cuba.  The  troops  in 
Camp  at  Savannah  numbered  from  fifteen  to  twenty  thousand 
on  Thanksgiving  day.  But  what  was  that  to  an  army  of  Sa 
vannah  ladies  who  poured  out  from  the  city  and  took  the  whole 
camp  by  surprise,  put  up  tables  and  loaded  them  with  one  of 
the  greatest  banquets  and  profusion  of  flowers  ever  known  to 
history.  I  was  requested  by  the  Soldiers'  Aid  Socety  of  Tipton 
to  thank  the  ladies  of  Savannah  for  the  splendid  Thanksgiving 
banquet.  The  poem  sent  for  this  purpose  was  published  in  the 
"Savannah  News"  and  the  publisher  sent  me  a  copy.  Dr.  C. 
Backman  (the  oldest  practicing  dentist  in  Savannah)  although 
then  a  total  stranger  to  me,  also  kindly  sent  me  a  copy  of  the 
paper  containing  the  poem  and  it  was  published  by  our  home 
paper.  The  kindness  of  the  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Backman  brought 
about  a  very  happy  correspondence  between  our  families  and 
when  I  sent  a  poem  on  "The  Vacant  Room  of  Our  Soldier 
Boy"  the  Doctor  had  it  published  and  answered  by  a  poet  friend 
of  his,  whose  poetry  expressed  sympathy  and  hope  for  the  safe 
return  of  our  boy.  After  the  regiment  returned  from  Cuba  the 
Doctor  sought  our  son  and  entertained  him  at  his  home  and 
when  he  was  sick  in  the  hospital,  both  he  and  his  estimable  wife 
carried  baskets  of  nourishment  and  tried  to  prevail  on  him  to 
accept  the  hospitality  of  their  home  until  he  became  well.  Long 
and  happy  life  to  our  southern  friends,  and  the  same  to 
''Henry"  if  living,  and  I  will  be  very  thankful  to  any  of  my 
readers  if  they  can  put  me  on  his  track,  for  the  "Journal"  force 
could  not  give  me  his  proper  name  or  place  of  residence.  If 
dead,  I  want  to  know  it,  and  say  peace  to  his  soul,  and  if  living 
I  want  to  thank  him  for  what  he  has  done  for  me  and  request 
permission  to  write  his  epitaph.  And  now,  gentle  reader,  what 
ever  appreciation  you  may  have  for  my  productions  please  re 
member  that  the  influence  of  "Henry"  was  in  no  small  degree 
back  of  it  all.  And  now  as  I  send  the  portion  of 


my  patriotic  and  promiscuous  poems  contained  in  this 
small  volume  on  its  mission,  I  hope  you  will  not  criticise,  but 
charitably  ascribe  to  it,  whatever  consideration  and  merit  it 
deserves.  Those  of  the  Thirty-fifth  Iowa  who  are  poetically  in 
clined  can  see  that  I  have  taken  no  title  upon  myself,  but  in 
justice  to  them  can  say  that  the  circumstances  here  narrated  are 
solely  responsible  for  your  humble  servant  being  called  the  poet 
of  the  Thirty-Fifth  Iowa. 


PATRIOTIC  POEMS 


In  times  of  old,  when  kings  were  crowned 
And  courtiers  danced  their  giddy  round, 
And  monarchs  held  supreme  control 
And  worldly  power  was  their  goal, 
Who  were  the  men  placed  at  the  helm 
To  guard  and  keep  the  conquered  realm 
To  execute  what  e'er  was  planned 
And  guard  with  safety  all  the  land  ? 
The  Soldier. 

When  infant  settlements  were  planned, 
And  danger  lurked  on  every  hand, 
Wild  beasts,  wild  men,  were  waiting  there 
Crouching,  springng  from  their  lair, 
Or  waiting  on  some  nearby  hill 
To  satiate  their  greedy  will, 
Who  trod  their  rounds  with  weary  feet 
And  gave  the  people  rest  and  sleep  ? 
The  Soldier. 

When  Uncle  Sam  wore  baby  clothes 
And.  Britain  in  her  wrath  arose 
And  taxed  the  tea  and  all  the  stamps 
And  maybe  candlesticks  and  lamps, 
Who  were  the  men  among  the  rest 
That  always  did  their  very  best 
To  drive  oppression  from  our  shore 
And  stay  its  progress  evermore  ? 
The  Soldier. 


When  England  ploughed  the  mighty  main 
Across  the  seas,  her  wealth  to  gain, 
She  claimed  the  right  to  search  our  craft 
Then  turn  around  and  jest  and  laugh 
And  say  "A  Britain  always  so" 
"Our  motto  is  wher'er  we  go" : 
Who  brought  them  down  upon  all  fours 
And  sent  them  home  to  do  their  chores  ? 
The  Soldier. 

When  Mexico  was  careless  quite 
Of  all  the  rules  of  nations  right, 
And  traced  an  order  on  her  slate 
Her  debts  she  would  repudiate, 
We  brought  them  to  a  sudden  pause 
And  taught  them  to  respect  our  cause, 
And  yet  with  all  our  zeal  and  zest 
Who  of  our  people  taught  them  best? 
The  Soldier. 

When  haughty  tyrants  played  their  roles 
And  bought  and  dealt  in  human  souls, 
They  claimed  the  right  if  they  should  will 
To  call  their  slaves  on  Bunker  Hill, 
Another  right  they  all  agreed 
That  from  our    Union  to  secede ; 
Who  showed  them  plainly,  one  and  all, 
That  all  such  plans  must  surely  fall? 
The  Soldier. 

When  it  was  thought  that  haughty  Spain 
With  foul  intent  blew  up  the  Maine, 
And  then  grew  turbulent  by  spells 
And  forced  our  men  to  prison  cells, 
And  slaughtered  Cubans  by  the  scores 
Just  as  they  did  in  former  wars, 


Who  taught  them  lessons  quite  intense 
And  brought  them  to  their  sober  sense? 
The  Soldier. 

Men  may  talk  both  loud  and  long  • 
With  oratory,  good  and  strong, 
And  bid  the  common    people  wait 
While  they  shall  guide  the  Ship  of  State; 
But  when  the  ship  gets  into  danger 
From  inward  foe  or  pirate  stranger, 
What  is  the  Captain's  last  resort 
To  bring  the  ship  safe  into  port? 
The  Soldier. 


RETROSPECTIVE 

I  often  turn  back  to  the  year  'Sixty-one 
When  conflict  of  slavery  with  Freedom  begun 
The  thoughts  of  a  moment,  results  of  an  age 
Are  all  written  out  on  that  wonderful  page, 

And  plainer  than  pictures  that  hang  on  the  wall 
I  see  the  dark  shadows  that  spread  over  all; 
Disloyal  debating,  dissention  and  strife 
Are  quenching  the  fountains  of  National  life. 

The  flag  of  our  county  is  trampled  in  dust 
The  hand  of  the  traitor  is  wreaking  his  lust, 
The  hordes  of  rebellion  from  near  and  afar 
Are  dealing  swift  vengeance  in  pillage  and  war. 

Our  country's  defenders,  the  loyal  and  brave 
Are  marshalling  armies  the  country  to  save, 
They  are  leaving  their  homes  and  families  dear 


And  hastening  onward,  their  comrades  to  cheer. 

'Mid  thunder  of  battle  and  carnage  and  smoke 
They  smite  the  oppressor  and  loosen  his  yoke, 
And  the  terrible  volume  is  only  begun 
With  defeats  and  successes  as  time  passes  on. 

The  land  is  in  sorrow,  depression  and  fear 
With  gloomy  forebodings  the  outgoing  year, 
Herculean  effort  the  next  year  was  made, 
The  tide  of  oppression  was  hopefully  stayed. 

But  yet  in  a  balance  our  destinies  hung, 

And  furious  engagements  that  no  human  tongue 

Attempts  to  relate,  but  attempts  it  in  vain 

The  numbers  of  thousands  of  wounded  and  slain. 

The  third  year  of  carnage,  the  greatest  yet  seen 
When  bloodshed  of  battle  oft  crimsoned  the  green, 
The  heaviest  engagements  the  world  ever  knew 
And  stubborn  rebellion  was  severed  in  two. 

Vicksburgh  has  fallen  and  Gettysburgh  won 
The  dark  clouds  are  yielding  a  glimpse  of  the  sun, 
The  loyal  are  hopeful  and  firm  in  their  cause 
Unyielding  in    justice,  maintaining  the  laws. 

The  fourth  year  of  sorrow  and  some  months  beside 
Saw  victory  sail  in  at  the  flow  of  the  tide; 
Our  land  forces  gathered  at  beat  of  the  drum 
The  living  returned  unto  kindred  and  home. 

But  Oh !  the  bright  lives  that  when  out  in  the  storm 
That  spread  o'er  the  nation  in  death-dealing  form 
How  often  remembered  in  silence  and  tears, 
Through  all  of  the  seasons  of  swift  passing  years. 

Tall  statues  of  marble  can  never  impart 
10 


A  balm  for  the  anguish  and  aching  of  heart 
That  is  felt  at  the  loss  of  our  heroes  so  brave, 
Who  gave  up  their  lives,  our  loved  country  to  save. 

Fond  memories  linger  on  each  passing  breeze 
That  is  wafted  to  us  from  the  Southern  seas ; 
May  nature'slWghtgarlands  forever  entwine 
'Round  the  graves  of  our  fallen  in  beauty  sublime. 

Let  the  foot  of  the  stranger  in  reverence  tread 

In  each  burial  place  of  our  own  country's  dead, 

And  all  of  our  people  as  years  cycle  'round 

Deck  the  graves  of  our  heroes  wherever  they're  found. 


THE    THIRTY -FIFTH    IOWA 

When  the  flag  of  our  country  was  flung  to  the  breeze 
And  proclaim**  new  nation  o'er  land  and  o'er  seas, 
It  gave  us  a  birthright  for  life  to  possess 
The  rights  of  the  free  in  the  land  of  the  West. 

But  when  foul  rebellion  arose  in  the  land 
And  spread  through  the  Southland  from  river  to  strand 
The  Northland  stood  firm  in  upholding  the  laws 
And  marshalled  its  armies  to  fight  in  its  cause. 

And  when  our  great  chieftan  called  yet  for  still  more 
The  loyal  responded  from  shore  unto  shore. 
Amid  that  great  army,  the  nation's  best  gift 
Marched  in  solid  column  the  grand  Thirty-Fifth. 

Of  all  none  were  more  hopeful  than  this  band  of  men 
Their  number  a  thousand,  their  companies  ten; 
They  feared  not  the  hardship,  they  feared  not  the  strife 
To  them  home  and  country  were  dearer  than  life. 

11 


They  stood  up  for  justice,  they  fought  for  the  truth 
That  loyal  battalion  of  manhood  and  youth, 
To  follow  their  journey  through  all  those  dark  years 
Death,  sickness  and  sorrow  and  sad  weeping  tears. 

Bereft  of  the  comforts  of  mother  or  wife 
They  die  among  strangers  or  fall  in  the  strife. 
It  would  fill  a  large  book  that  no  one  could  write 
Save  the  God  of  our  battles  that  watched  o'er  the  fight. 

The  living  pressed  onward  'till  victory  won 
And  then  the  march  homeward  at  last  was  begun ; 
With  glad  hearts  and  joyful  as  onward  they  come 
To  meet  friends  and  kindred  and  pleasures  of  home. 

Abreast  the  great  river  at  last  they  are  seen 
And  steer  for  the  harbor  of  old  Muscatine ; 
Thronged  citizens  gather,  while  hats  they  uplift 
And  thrice  hearty  welcome  the  old  Thirty-Fifth. 

Oh !  where  are  they  now,  those  Ten  Hundred  Men  ? 
Many  sleep  in  the  valley,  the  mountain  and  glen, 
Some  are  limpng  along  and  shattered  in  health 
Some  have  little  to  keep  them  and  few  are  in  wealth. 

But  of  all  the  great  favors  that  fall  unto  man 
Is  the  joy  of  our  meeting  together  again, 
Leaving  business  behind  us  without  a  regret 
Have  a  Reunion  together,  we'll  never  forget 

And  when  all  our  cares  and  our  sorrows  are  o'er 
Transportation  be  furnished  to  Heaven's    brght  shores 
And  the  Guardian  Angel  the  wicket  will  lift 
And  welcome  each  boy  of  the  old  Thirty-Fifth. 

12 


WOMAN    AND    THE    BELIEF    COKPS 

To  all  firm  believers  of  that  excellent  book 
Which  tells  of  the  fruit  that  our  parents  partook, 
You  find  that  the  man  was  the  first  on  the  ground 
And  spent  most  of  his  time  in  looking  around ; 

Beheld  trees  and  flowers  from  stem  unto  root 
But  had  little  knowledge  of  flavors  of  fruit, 
But  when  Mother  Eve  appeared  as  his  spouse 
She  straightway  began  to  provide  for  the  house. 

She  gathered  some  apples,  enough  to  suffice 
To  bake  for  their  dinner  a  couple  of  pies, 
She  already  believed  in  cooking  their  food 
But  Adam  was  lazy  and  got  her  no  wood. 

He  sat  in  contentment  and  quoted  the  law 
That  all  fruits  forever  should    be  eaten  raw; 
That  man  was  well  punished  since  then,  you  will  note 
The  chunk  of  raw  apple  still  sticks  in  his  throat. 

And  by  this  we  prove  the  origianl  plan 
Of  woman's  creation  superior  to  man. 
She  helped  along  when  he  tended  his  flocks 
And  lived  in  a  tent  on  the  mountains  and  rocks. 

And  when  he  became  yet  more  civilized 
She  helped  him  to  build  in  the  midst  of  the  wilds. 
She  sailed  o'er  the  breadth  of  the  treacherous  main 
And  stood  by  his  side  in  the  woods  and  the  plain. 

She  lived  in  her  cabin  in  danger  and  dread 
And  oft  gave  to  others  her  morsel  of  bread, 
And  heard  the  loud  war-whoop  of  savage  wild  men 
Resound  through  the  forest  and  echo  again ; 

And  between  the  bright  morn  and  the  sunset's  red  glow 

13 


Beheld  all  she  loved  in  her  presence  laid  low, 
And  yet  never  faltered  or  murmured  complaint 
No  matter  how  saddened  or  weary  or  faint. 

She  helped  to  build  up  all  the  wealth  of  the  East 
In  which  present  people  can  revel  and  feast. 
She  went  to  the  West,  as  every  one  knows 
In  the  midst  of  the  prairie  she  planted  the  rose. 

She  came  to  the  Rockies  with  never  a  rest 
And  foot-sore  and  weary  passed  over  their  crest, 
And  down  in  the  vales  of  that  beautiful  land 
She  planted  the  orange  longside  of  the  palm. 

She  raised   up  the  children  from  near  and  afar 
Who  made  themselves  famous  in  peace    and  in  war. 
Whenever  our  nation  was  toiling  in  strife 
No  heroes  were  braver  than  mother  and  wife. 

To  help  our  foef athers  their  freedom  to  gain 
They  molded  the  bullets  that  conquered  the  slain ; 
They  bound  up  the  wounds  and  they  kneaded  the  bread 
On  which  patriot  soldiers  were  wont  to  be  fed. 

When  later  old  England  our  country  assailed 
And  well  for  our  people  ingloriously  failed, 
The  power  of  woman  arose  in  its  might 
And  with  her  assistance  gave  strength  to  the  fight. 

When  dread  civil  war,  this  beautiful  land 
Deluged  with  blood  from  ocean  to  strand 
The  prayers  of    our  women  were  ever  again 
A  strength  to  our  armies,  the  struggle  to  gain. 

They  stood  by  our  soldiers  in  field  and  in  camp 
When  pallor  spread  o'er  them  with  pestilence  damp, 
As  sisters  of  mercy  they  worked  in   the  rows 

14 


Of  wounded  and  dying  in  hospital  clothes. 

In  these  later  years,  in  our  contest  with  Spain 
The    kindness  of  woman  was  present  again, 
The  same  gentle  touch  and  the  closing  of  eyes 
Of  comrades  whose  spirits  had  fled  to  the  skies. 

The  old  army  veteran  bowed  in  his  grief 
Gives  thanks  to  his  Maker  for  Woman's    Relief 
In  fighting  life's  battles  though  weary  and  sore 
He  takes  up  new  courage  by  help  of  the  Corps. 

Go  search  the  world  over,  no  better  you'll  find 
To  heal  up  the  wounded  in  body  and  mind, 
No  body  of  workers  throughout  all  the  land 
Have  ever  done  better  for  suffering  man. 

They  come  to  his  aid  at  the  time  of  his  need 
With  never  a  thought  of  his  doctrine  or  creed, 
They  nurse  the  good  wife  and  the  children    caress 
And  dispel  every  want  in  the  way  that  is  best. 

Now  to  these  good  sisters  my  tribute  I  bring 
And  consider  them  greater  than  Duchess  or  King, 
For  in  God's  creation  to  make  us  more  human 
He  sent  us  an  angel  and  called  it  a  woman. 


HARD      TACK 

When  wrapt  in  reverie  I  find 

Swift  thoughts  come  thronging  on  the  mind, 

I  think  of  days  when  I  was  small 

And  chased  with  glee  my  hoop  and  ball; 

Of  days  of  maple  syrup  saps 

And  mother's  pies  and  ginger  snaps; 

15 


Of  doughnuts  too,  there  was  no  lack; 
But  then  we  never  knew  Hard  Tack- 

We  had  some  cares,  of  course  we  did 
And  so  does  every  little  kid ; 
Feet  frosted  with  the  winter  snow 
The  stone  bruise  on  the  bare-foot  toe, 
The  measles  and  the  whooping  cough, 
Or  sleeping  up  on  some  dark  loft; 
But  trials  more  we  had  to  back 
When  old  enough  to  eat  Hard  Tack. 

But  when  big  boys    we  grew  to  be 
As  comely  as  you'd  wish  to  see 
We  brushed  our  coats  and  combed  our  curls 
And  looked  askance  at  pretty  girls ; 
Sometimes  we  saw  them  home  from  church, 
Sometimes  they  left  us  in  the  lurch, 
And  bade  us  please  to  just    step  back, 
With  hearts  much  harder  than  Hard  Tack. 

But  darker  days  have   come  to  all 
When  haughty  pride  must  have  a  fall ; 
The  rising  storm  is  seen  afar 
As  onward  comes  the  march  of  war, 
And  maiden,  mother,  wife  shall  weep 
And  silent  dreary  vigils  keep 
And  scarcely  for  a  moment  lack 
To  think  of  thofee  who  eat  Hard  Tack. 

For  lover,  brother,  husband,  now 
Have    registered  a  solemn  vow 
To  live  or  die,  as  chance  may  be 
For  equal  rights  and  liberty, 
Down  at  the  front  they  march  along 
And  mingle  with  the  mighty  throng, 

16 


Each  hoping  he  may  soon  come  back 
And  throw  away  his  old  Hard  Tack. 

Sometimes  plenty,  often  less, 

Sometimes  nothing  in  the  mess, 

Ofttimes  supperless  to  bed 

With  leaking  sky  all  overhead, 

Nothing  for   soldiers  to  admire 

When  out  of  food  and  out  of  fire 

But  rest  upon  their  haversack 

And  dream  'tis  filled  with  good  Hard  Tack. 

The  weary  march,  the  battles  roar 
Comes  to  the  memory  o'er  and  o'er. 
The  dead  and  dying  wounded  all 
Commingle  in  one  funeral  pall ; 
You  see  it  all  down  through  the  years 
And  oft  your  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears; 
Those  by-gone  days,  they  all  come  back 
When  comrades  shared  their  last  Hard  Tack. 

Brave  heroes  sleep  in  southern  soil 
Away  from  all  life's  busy  toil, 
While  some  are  living  good  and  true 
As  in  the  days  they  wore  the  blue ; 
Their  scattering  locks  are  turning  gray 
And  all,  too  soon  must  pass  away. 
Good  people  all  let  nothing  lack 
To  those  who  once  could  eat  Hard  Tack. 


CAMP    STRONG 

Who  named  Camp  Strong  I  cannot  tell 
But  he  who  did  it,  did  it  well, 

17 


And  looking  back  I  often  think 

Of  some  strong  things  we  had  to  drink. 

Strong  water  first  and  very  bad 

To  drink  the  the  same  would  make  you  sad, 

Strong  coffee  too,  and  taste  of  rust 

Mixed  in  with  sand  and  island  dust; 

And  to  this  day  we  all  agree 
'Twas  there  we  drank  our  strongest  tea, 
And  worse  than  tea  was  sometimes  found 
By  thirsty  boys  who  ran  up  town. 

The  camp  was  by  the  river  side 
O'erflown  at  time  of  highest  tide, 
And  from  the  city  could  be  seen 
Just  down  below  old  Muscatine. 

A  sickly  place  'twas  surely  true, 
For  when  the  fog  raised  o'er  the  slough 
And  spread  abroad  its  mantle  rife 
You'd  almost  cut  it  with  a  knife. 

A  passing  breeze  the  clouds  would  shift 
And  there  behold  the  Thirty-Fifth, 
Their  shanties  stood  ten  all  abreast 
A.nd  formed  the  row  the  farthest  west. 

Then  turning  left  and  passing  north 
We  viewed  with  pride  the  Twenty-Fourth, 
The  boys  who  donned  their  suits  of  blue 
While  our  own  knees  were  sticking  through. 


They  left  us  one  October 
And  down  the  river  made  their  way, 
And  in  their  place  the  Graybeards  came 
And  took  their  quarters  just  the  same. 


18 


Some  weeks  together  then  we  passed, 
Until  our  orders  came  at  last, 
We  left  the  camp  and  took  the  car 
And  off  we  started  for  the  war. 

The  Graybearda  finished  up  the  camp 
Before  they  started  on  the  tramp, 
They  were  the  last  of  all  the  throng 
That  ever  tarried  in  Camp  Strong. 

The  young,  the  old,  the  brave,  the  gay, 
Came  in  and  out  and  went  their  way ; 
A  few  yet  on  life's  billows  tossed 
While  many  more  the  stream  have  crossed. 

Now  in  our  fast  declining  years 
Come  let  us  hear  your  hopes  and  fears ; 
Just  "grab  a  root"  and  come  along 
And  let  us  hear  of  old  Camp  Strong. 


THE    WOMEN    OF    MUSCATINE 

There  is  many  a  gem  worth  keeping 

Produced  from  countries  afar 

But  better  than  these  are  fond  memories 

Reflected  from  days  of  the  war. 

You  may  travel  this  wide  world  all  over 

And  tell  us  all  you  have  seen, 

But  you  never  will  change  our  opinion 

Of  the  ladies  of  Muscatine. 

Not  alone  of  those  in  the  city 
Do  I  wish  to  speak  of  in  praise, 
But  the  women  of  all  the  county 
Who  lived  in  the  perilous  days 

19 


The  days  of  the  Southern  Kebellion 
And  all  of  the  years  between 
The  loyal  true-hearted  devotion 
Of  the  women  of  Muscatine. 

Always  ready  for  every  occasion, 
And  eager  and  willing  to  do 
Anything  for  the  pleasure  and  comfort 
Of  the  chivalrous  "boys  in  blue", 
And  when  we  were  sick  and  suffering 
Or  felt  the  pangs  of  adversity  keen, 
!N"one  more  ready  to  offer  assistance 
Than  the  ladies  of  Muscatine. 

Then  all  of  ye  "Thirty-Fifth"  soldier* 
~No  matter  wherever  yon  roam, 
Come  down  to  the  beautiful  city 
The  city  we  call  our  home; 
And  never  forget  the  ladies 
But  keep  their  memory  green; 
Three  cheers  for  the  army  and  navy 
And  the  women  of  Muscatine. 


THE    MISSING 

When  the  days  of  foul  rebellion 
Cursed  our  land  from  gulf  to  shore, 
Then  it  was  that  hearts  knew  sorrow 
That  they  never  knew  before. 

Grandparents  old  and  feeble 
Pondered  all  the  live-long  day 
At  the  thoughts  that  friends  and  kindred 
Must  be  counted  in  the  fray. 

20 


But  the  parents  grief  was  greater 
As  they  gave  their  willing  sons, 
And  the  while  it  seemed  the  harder 
When  they  sent  their  only  ones. 

And  the  noble  wife  and  mother 
Could  but  wring  her  hands  and  pray, 
As  she  saw  her  husband  father 
Kiss  good-bye  and  march  away. 

Then  the  kind  and  loving  sisters 
Must  give  up  their  bothers  too, 
For  they  know  their  country's  calling 
For  the  good,  the  brave,  the  true. 

To  the  young  and  lovely  maiden 
All  the  future  seemed  so  dark 
When  from  out  their  pleasant  sunshine 
Her  fond  lover  must  depart. 

Fond  adieus  from  friends  and  kindred 
Were  repeated  o'er  and  o'er 
And  our  country  was  in  sorrow 
All  the  way  from  shore  to  shore. 

Armies  passing  from  the  cities 
And  along  the  country  ways, 
Marching  forth  in  solid  column 
Home  and  country    all  to  save. 

Lo!  the  sounds  of  deadly  conflict 
Are  soon  borne  upon  the  breeze, 
Ere  the  birds  and  blossoms  mingle 

With  the  leaves  upon  the  trees ; 

\ 

And  the  wings  of  death's  dark  angel 
Spread  o'er  vale  and  mountain  side 

21 


'Till  the  weeping  wife  and  mother 
Almost  wished  they  too  had  died. 

Many  homes  were  rent  asunder 
And  fond  hopes  were  crushed  for  aye, 
'Till  all  kindred  meet  together 
In  a  home  beyond  the  sky. 

But  of  all  the  mortal  sorrows 
That  the  human  soul  could  rack 
It  was  this,  to  get  no  tidings 
Of  the  one  that  ne'er  came  back. 

Whether  on  the  field  of  glory 
Or  the  prisons  crowded  cell, 
No  one  has  yet  discovered 
The  place  whereon  he  fell. 

Could  he  but  sank  to  slumber 
On  a  comrade's  loving  arm, 
And  thus  cross  the  placid  liver 
Where  the  wicked  cease  to  harm, 

The  kindred  at  the  heart-stone 
Would  give  all  the  world  beside 
For  some  satisfying  knowledge 
As  to  how  their  loved  one  died. 

Thus  the  parent  and  the  widow 
Oft  have  grieved  their  life  away, 
Still  repining  an-d  declining 
With  a  grief  they  could  not  stay. 

When  the  years  of  strife  were  ended 
And  the  armies  home  again; 
Who  could  count  the  many  thousands 
That  were  numbered  with  the  slain. 


22 


Who  could  count  the  many  heart  aches 
That  were  caused  by  war's  alarms 
Through  all  the  years  of  contest 
When  our  country  was  in  arms. 

Credit  good  to  God  the  Father 
And  all  wickedness  to  men, 
And  pray  no  great  rebellion 
May  e'er  visit  us  again. 


THE    PATRIOTIC    PICTURE 

Come  paint  me  a  picture 
To  hang  on  the  wall 
And  show  to  my  comrades 
Whenever  they  call. 

As  noble  a  group 

As  ever  was  seen, 

Who  would  willingly  drink 

From  the  same  canteen. 

And  now  my  good  artist 
You've  got  to  play  fair, 
For  one  from  each  order 
Must  surely    be  there. 

Four  gray  heads  must  surely 
Appear  in  the  space 
Each  having  a  very 
Conspicuous  place, 

The  Grand  Army  Man 
And  the  Legion  are  there, 
And  two  elderly  ladies 
With  silvery  hair ; 

23 


Each  of  the  pair 
Are  no  strangers  to  grief 
The  Grand  Army  Ladies 
And  Womans  Relief. 

The  fair  Daughters  too 
Those  mischievous  elves 
Who  join  with  the  others 
Or  work  by  themselves. 

And  now  for  our  sons 
Who  are  scattered  so  wide, 
We  must  bring  them  together 
All  side  by  side. 

The  S.  V.  Camp 
And  some  in  the  Guard 
The  Spanish  war  vet 
And  his  Army  pard ; 

And  our  parents 
And  family  of  '61 
And  now  our  formation 
Is  only  begun. 

Our  sweethearts  and  wives 
And  our  children  dear 
In  that  same  picture 
Must  all  appear. 

Another  old  vet' 
Must  stand  in  the  row 
Who  fought  on  the 
Plains  of  Mexico; 

The  Regular  too, 

Who  trod  o'er  the  wild 


24 


And  guarded  the 
Pioneer's  infant  child. 

And  down  in  the  past 
We  willingly  delve 
To  bring  up  a  face 
From  the  war  of  '12. 

And  on  down  the  line 

By  strict  evolution 

Another  we  bring 

From  the  Great  [Revolution. 

I  want  this  grand  picture 
To  be  a  surprise 
Portray  every  feature 
And  kind,  beaming  eyes; 

But  how  shall  we  group  them 
And  make  them  appear 
With  all  in  the  front 
And  none  in  the  rear. 

I  cannot  arrange  them 
I  give  up  the  job 
And  leave  their  position 
To  country  and  God. 


THE    OLD     ARMY     SHOE 

Good  woman  I've  painted 
Your  house  through  and  through, 
And  now  if  you  wish 
I  will  gild  the  old  shoe ; 


25 


The  one  in  the  \vurdrobe 
I  saw  over  there, 
As  you  turn  to  the  left 
At  the  foot  of  the  stair. 

Nay,  painter,  it  certainly 
Never  would  do 
For  strangers  to  handle 
That  sacred  old  shoe ; 

But  I'll  take  it  down 
As  I  often  have  done, 
For  it  is  all  I  have  left, 
Of  my  long  lost  son 

My  husband  was  (lend 
And  my  innocent  boy 
Was  the  pride  of  my  life, 
And  the  height  of  my  joy. 

At  the  call  of  our  country 
He  proudly  marched  forth 
And  down  to  the  front 
With  the  hosts  of  the  North. 

A  few  tender  letters 
And  then  all  was  o'er 
I  never  could  hear 
Of  my  boy  any  more. 

But  after  long  months 
Of  sorrow  and  pain, 
They  sent  me  a  package 
That  came  by  the  train, 

I  opened  the  parcel, 
Examined  it  through ; 


And  only     could  find 
The  old  army  shoe. 

While  scanning  it  closely 
Though  I  could  not  tell  why ; 
I  read  on  the  sole, 
"Dear  mother,  good-bye." 

He  surely  is  gone, 
And  'tis  certainly  true, 
As  a  last  dying  token 
He  sent  me  his  shoe. 

My  boy  was  my  all 
Let  him  sleep  where  he  will, 
There's  a  void  in  my  heart 
That  nothing  can  fill. 

And  now  kind  stranger 
I  see  you're  in  tears, 
To  think  how  I've  suffered 
These  many  long  years ; 

And  now  kind  lady 
Without  more  ado 
I'll  add  something  more 
To  the  tale  of  the  shoe. 

'Twas  the  spring  of  the  year 
The  beautiful  May, 
We  all  were  drawn  up 
In  battle  array. 

Your  boy  at  my  left 
With  myself  at  his  right. 
And  in  that  position 
We  entered  the  fight. 

27 


A  minnie  ball  came 
Our  ranks  whizzing  through, 
And  made  the  plain  mark 
On  the  heel  of  his  shoe. 

And  yet  farther  on 
'Midst  the  heat  of  the  fray, 
A  cannon  ball  took 
His  left  leg  away. 

I  carried  him  down 
In  a  valley  close  by 
His  blood  flowing  fast; 
I  knew  he  would  die. 

A  keepsake  he  said 
For  my  mother  so  true; 
But  there's  nothing  to  send 
Unless  it's  my  shoe. 

I  handed  it  to  him; 
And  with  hand  growing  cold 
And  fast  failing  strength 
He  wrote  on  the  sole. 


We  made  him  a  grave 
'JSTeath  a  mistletoe  bough  , 
And  marked  well  the  spot, 
I  could  find  it  there  now. 

He  gave  me  your  address 
And  whispered  it  plain ; 
And  I  sent  the  package 
That  came  by  the  train. 

28 


TO    THE    CAVALRY 

A  critter  soldier  came  dashing  by 
And  I  thought  of  the  days  when  you  and  I 
Were  marching  along  in  the  broiling  heat, 
All  weary  of  limb  and  aching  feet 

We  travelled   across  the  burning  sand 

Or  mud  and  water  on  every  hand; 

We  wondered  that  men  might  have  the  chance 

To  wear  a  pair  of  "half-soled"  pants. 

It  seemed  to  us  an  excellent  plan 

That  horses  should  march  instead  of  man ; 

And  that  is  why  so  many  were  saved, 

While  the  footman  went  down  to  his  early  grave: 

Yet  away  with  the  man  with  memory  skilled 
Who  says  no  cavalry  ever  were  killed. 
In  years  of  struggle  and  civil  strife 
Both  "foot  and  horse"  gave  up  their  life. 

And  but  a  remnant  from  out  the  fray 

Are  able  to  meet  with  us  here  today; 

So  let  them  talk  of  the  various  ways 

They  fought  and  marched  in  their  army  days. 

All  hail  to  the  men  that  rode  o'er  the  land 
And  the  weary  feet  that  pounded  the  sand ; 
"Sand  pounders"  are  here  in  an  equal  chance 
With  the  boys  who  wore  the  "half-soled"  pants. 


OUR  COUNTRY'S  DEFENDERS 

They  fought  to  form  a  nation  true 
And  built  it  better  than  they  knew, 

29 


And  kept  it  later  when  the  clan 

Of  British  hordes  stood  man  to  man. 

They  never  let  their  honor  go 
When  crossing  swords  with  Mexico, 
And  in  our  bloody  civil  strife, 
They  pledged  anew  our  nation's  life. 

They  brought  our  flag  without  a  stain 
Home  from  the  war  with  haughty  Spain ; 
So  give  to  all  from  first  to  last 
The  honor  due  to  every  class. 


OUE    FALLEN    BRAVE 

When  the  graves  of  our  soldiers 
Are  covered  with  snow 
And  the  gales  of  stern  winter 
Rush  furiously  by; 

The  living  should  think 
Of  the  debt  that  they  owe    • 
For  the  sacrifice  made 
By  our  comrades  who  die 

When  spring  brings  her  fragrance 
Of  buds  and  of  flowers 
To  sweeten  the  pleasure 
Of  swift  passing  hours. 

And  picture  her  landscape 
So  rich  and  so  gay 
We've  chosen   a  time 
In  the  beautiful  May, 

30 


To  weave  the  bright  garlands 
From  nature's  rich  store, 
And  deck  the  green  mounds 
From  shore  unto  shore, 

Where  heroes  lie  sleeping 
In  calm,  peaceful  rest, 
With  nature's  soft  coverlet 
Spread  o'er  each  breast. 

Many  are  lying 

In  places  unknown 

With  never  a  word 

Marked  on  slab  or  on  stone; 

But  whether  in  valley 
Or  mountain  side  steep, 
The  feathery  songsters 
Their  vigils  will  keep ; 

And  each  dying  autumn 
Like  a  funeral  pall, 
Spreads  her  rich  leaves 
Alike  over  all. 

With  proper  respect 
For  the  deeds  of  the  brave 
Who  gave  up  their  lives 
Our  country  to  save; 

Let  us  never  forget 
The  lesson  they  taught  , 
And  prize  every  right 
Which  so  dearly  was  bought. 

Let  Columbia's  children 
,  31 


Have  respect  for  her  laws, 
And  remember  the  heroes 
Who  died  in  her  cause. 


WEST     LIBEKTY 

(For  Reunion  of  35th  Iowa  at  West  Liberty  Iowa.) 
You  may  cross  over  mountains  and  valley  so  fair 
Inhale  the  sweet  breeze  of  the  health-giving  air, 
And  count  all  the  places  of  beauty  you  see 
The  beautiful  flowers  and  fruit  on  the  tree; 
But  where  is  the  place  where  comrades  may  rest 
All  feel  at  home  and  partake  of  the  best? 
West  Liberty. 

The  flocks  and  the  crops  .grow  strong  in  the  sun 
The  husbandman  rests  when  his  duty  is  done; 
The  good  wife  and  children  are  better  than  kings 
Because  of  contentment  that  happiness  brings. 
A  community  busy  as  bees  in  a  hive 
A  place  where  all  people  must  certainly  thrive; 
West  Liberty. 

In  times  when  our  natiton  was  sorely  distressed 
And  soldiers  were  wanted  to  march  from  the  west, 
The  Old  Wapsie  Valley  was  true  to  the  call, 
Her  sons  swelled  the  ranks  of  the  musket  and  ball, 
And  these  later  years  at  the  bugle  refrain 
She  sent  gallant  heroes  to  struggle  with  Spain. 
West  Liberty. 

It  seems  as  the    years  in  their  cycles  go  round 
~No  spot  on  this  earth  will  ever  be  found 
With  people  more  willing,  faithful  and  true 

32 


To  welcome  the  boys  of  the  Government  blue ; 
No  matter  whatever  from  whence  we  may  come 
'Tis  surely  the  place  we  can  all  feel  at  home — 
West  Liberty. 

We  enjoy  with  the  gents  and  ladies  so  fair 
A  sunshine  of  pleasure  that  banisheth  care, 
And  then  a  grand  banquet  the  best  in  the  land 
Prepared  by  the  skill  of  each  delicate  hand 
Oh  !  where  is  the  town  that  such  bounty  can  spread 
'Till  all  the  old  vets  in  the  city  are  fed? 
West  Liberty. 

And  now  when  the  comrades  will  travel  their  ways 
They  will  bring  to  their  mind  the  pleasantest  days, 
They  ever  hav«:  spent  in  any  good  town 
Upon  which  the  old  sun  has  ever  looked  down ; 
And  now  in  conclusion  'tis  nothing  but  fair 
That  God  bless  its  people  be  ever  our  prayer, 
West  Liberty. 


Of  all  the  good  people  who  meet  in  the  town 
Or  yet  farther  out  in  the  country  around, 
And  distribute  their  blessings  on  needy  and  poor 
There  are  none  that  will  equal  our  womanly  corps. 

In  sickness  and  sorrow  they're  always  on  hand 
With  nr.ver  a  shirker  in  that  noble  band, 
But  workers  who  always  the  idle  ignore, 
And  none  but  the  faithful  belong  to  the  Corps. 

In  planning  and  doing,  I'm  sure  we  can  boast 
33 


The're  always  some  distance  ahead  of  the  Post, 
On  social  occasions  we  yield  them  the    floor 
And  always  submit  to  the  will  of  the  Corps. 

Auxiliary — never!  we  blush  with  the  shame 
Of  any  poor  sinner  who  gave  them  the  name ; 
For  no  one  is  needed  to  write  up  their  brief  j 
May  God's  richest  blessing  be  on  our  Relief.- 


FOR    DECORATION    DAY 

Pause  awhile  where  sleep  the  brave 
'Strew  the  garlands  o'er  each  grave, 
Place  the  flag  above  their  head 
In  the  city  of  the  dead. 

They  served  us  well  and  now  they  lay 
Within  their  tenements  of  clay; 
In  peaceful  rest  and  sweetest  sleep 
The  while  their  silent  vigils  keep. 

God  marks  the  spot  and  knows  it  well 
Where  every  single  comrade  fell, 
And  when  he  comes  to  claim  his  own 
Our  loved  ones  will  be  gathered  home. 


AN     INCIDENT 

We  had  been  to  the  Depot,  our  friends  there  to  meet 
And  were  drawn  up  in  line  by  the  side  of  the  street, 
"Touch  elbows"  my  comrades  I  heard  some  one  say 
While  giving  command  (in  a  jocular  way). 

ru 


I  touched  to  the  left,  with  a  feeling  quite  plain 
And  swayed  to  the  right,  but  a  sensible  pain 
Stole  over  my  frame  while  led  to  believe 
My  elbow  touched  naught  but  an  empty  sleeve. 

A  story  it  told  of  the  days  of  the  past 
When  the  smoke  of  the  battle,  the  sky  overcast, 
When  the  heroes  of  blue  were  mixed  with  the  gray 
And  many  laid  low  in  the  midst  of  the  fray. 

The  field  fraught  with  carnage  and  red  rivers  run 
From  blush  of  the  morning  'till  set  of  the  sun, 
And  foot  horse  and  rider  were  closing  the  space 
Where  many  brave  comrades  went  down  in  their  place. 

Those  battles  are  over,  peace  hovers  again 
O'er  hilltop  and  valley  and  mountain  and  plain; 
May  our  nation  be  living  when  rivers  are  dry 
And  always  be  lasting  as  stars  in  the  sky. 


TO     OUR     SOLDIER    DEAD 

We  will  come  to  the  spot 
Where  dead  comrades  lay, 
And  garland  their  tombs 
In  the  sunshine  of  May; 

And  think  of  their  deeds 
Of  times  that  are  passed, 
And  cherish  their  names 
While  memory  lasts. 

35 


KE  PL  Y 

(Reply  to  Invitation  to  Regimental  Reunion.) 

Some  paint  splendid  sketches 
To  hang  on  the  wall, 
But  fancy  paints  pictures 
At  memory's  call ; 

And  mine  draws  a  picture 
To  please  you  I  ween, 
Of  welcome  sojourners 

At  old  Muscatine. 

i 

The  "})oys"  are  seen  gathering 
In  one  by  one, 
Musicians  are  beating 
Away  at  the  drum 

And  every  true  member 
Of  that  little  band 
Is  greeting  his  comrade 
With  shake  of  the  hand. 

And  in  the  commotion 

I  plainly  can  see 

There's  room  for  the  comrade 

Of  Company  G. 

So  while  you  are  joining 
In  that  happy  throng, 
Remember  your  servant 
Is  coming    along. 

86 


THE    KECEPTION 

A  time  and  place  where  all  can  meet 
And  each  their  friends  and  comrades  greet, 
And  live  the  young  days  o'er  again 
Forgetting  they  are  gray-haired  men. 

Old  sisters  too,  with  faded  curls 
Can  quote  the  time  when  they  were  girls, 
And  yet  enjoy  this  life  so  brief 
Before  they  join  the  last  relief. 


Where  horrors  of  war 
Have  been    overspread 
The  calmness  of  peace 
Is  reigning  instead. 

The  harvester  gathers 
His   crop   in   the   sun 
Where    once  was  the  booming 
Of  cannon  and  gun. 

The  lark.,  builds  her  nest 
In  the  ripening  grain 
Where  the  valleys  were  red 
With  the  blood  of  the  slain. 

May  the    great  God  of  War 
With  his  withering  hand 
Henceforth  keep  aloof 
From  our  own  native  land. 

Let  our  sons  and  our  daughters 
37 


Ne'er  know  the  barm 
Of  the  dreadful  condition 
Of  wars  dread  alarm. 


WASHINGTON 

Of  all  the  men  e'er  known  to  fame 
Who  earned  themselves  a  deathless  name 
And  helped  to  formulate  a  plan 
To  give  good  government  to  man, 
There  was  Columbia's  favorite  son 
Our  own  beloved  Washington. 

We  need  not  ask  the  sect  or  creed 
Of  those  who  knew  their  country's  need ; 
He  used  the  force  of  truth  and  might 
To  battle  for  the  cause  of  right, 
And  never  halted  'till  he  won 
The  name  of  Father  Washington. 

There  never  was  an  act  to  mar 
His  honor  in  his  day  of  war, 
And  gratitude  should  never  cease 
For  all  he  did  in  time  of  peace; 
Let  every  land  beneath  the  sun 
Revere  the  name  of  Washington, 


PUTTING  DOWN  THE  REBELLIOX 

I  could  not  tell  whether  I'd  better  enlist 
Than  try  to  fight  rebels  alone  wid  me  fist 
Of  course  I  would  rather  have  me  own  way 
And  do  all  the  wurruk  and  have  all  the  pay, 

38 


jFor  what  wag  the  use  of  an  army  of  men 
If  I  could  do  all  of  the  fighting  and  then 
I'd  surely  put  down  the  Rebellion. 

But  while  I  was  thinkin'  as  sure  as  the  fate 
Behold  all  me  plans  were  a  little  too  late ; 
They  said  I  would  have  to  join  into  the  ranks 
And  learn  all  their  blatherin  bothersome  pranks. 
They  made  me  believe  I'd  always  feel  proud 
And  have  at  my  back  an  illegant  crowd, 
Then  I  could  put  down  the  Rebellion. 

They  made  us  all  stand  in  a  very  straight  line 
And  dressed  us  in  clothes  that  made  us  look  fine 
Then  gave  us  a  harness  wid  buckles  and  straps 
Some  little  square  boxes  with  buttons  and  flaps 
And  said  our  supplies  had  only  begun 
And  handed  to  each  a  very  fine  gun 

With  which  to  put  down  the  Rebellion. 

Then  clothes  and  blankets  were  put  on  our  back 
In  spider  like  fixin'  called  a  knapsack, 
Another  fine  sack  that  looked  rather  neat 
They  said  it  would  hold  all  we  wanted  to  eat, 
Something  for  drink  for  every  spalpeen 
Was  hung  on  his  side  and  called  a  canteen 
And  helped  to  put  down  the  Rebellion. 

Now  we  had  to  carry  this  luggage  of  course 
(While  all  the  big  bosses  could  ride  on  a  horse) 
And  often  must  carry  wherever  we  went 
A  nate  little  cottage  they  called  a  pup  tent 
A  knife  and  a  fork,  a  tin  plate  and  spoon 
As  sure  as  me  name  is  John  Patrick  Muldoon 
And  I  must  put  down  the  Rebellion. 

Wid  cooking  arrangements  not  very  complete 

39 


They  did  us  quite   well  when  we'd  nothing  to  eat ; 
Sometimes  when  in  danger  provision  would  lack 
We  had  some  queer  crackers,  they  called  'em  "hard  tack" 
And  some  thin  and  soft  almost  ready  to  walk 
And  surely  created  abundance  of  talk. 
And  helped  to  prolong  the  Rebellion. 

After  we'd  sogered  some  several  months 
I  got  the  rheumatics,  (it  came  all  at  once) 
It  drew  up  my  ankle  so  tight  and  so  sore 
It  appeared  that  it  never  would  walk  any  more, 
They  gave  me  some  crutches  to  hobble  around 
And  said  that  I  surely  would  never  be  sound, 
Or  fit  to  put  down  the  Rebellion. 

Off  to  a  hospital  they  sent  me  at  last 
Because  my  leg  was  stiffening  fast; 
A  pompous  old  doctor  with  heart  very  large 
Sat  down  to  a  table  and  wrote  me  discharge, 
"When  out  of  the  army  the  truth  I  will  tell 
I  threw  down  me  crutches  and  walked  very  well 
And  that's  how  I  put  down  the  Rebellion. 


PATRIOTIC      POEMS 

(Written  during  the  Spanish-  American  War.) 
COMPANY    F,    FOKTY-NINTH    IOWA 

When  spirit  of  rancor  and  haughty    disdain 
Caused  arrogant  Spaniards  to  blow  up  the  Maine 
And  deal  death  and  danger  both  near  and  afar 
Our  country  was  saddened  with  terrible  war. 

Armies  pushed  forward  with  quickening  life 
And  boldly  marched  onward  to  enter  the  strife- 
'Midst  moving  battalions  all  forming  abreast 
Behold  our  young  soldiers  of  Company  F. 

In  camp  at  Des  Moines  with  uncertain  fate 
They  drill  and  recruit  and  anxiously  wait; 
At  last  the  despatch  is  sent  o'er  the  lines 
To  establish  a  camp  in  the  Florida  pines. 

At  the  end  of  the  journey  without  any  pomp 
They  were  ordered  to  tent  in  a  Jacksonville  swamp; 
With  days  hot  as  fury  and  nights  that  were  cool 
And  mosquitoes  as  big  as  a  Government  Mule. 


'Mid  ponds  that  were  fjfhy  and  pools  that  were  vile 
Decay  and  destruction  to  every  square  mile; 
The  fumes  of  malaria  in  each  passing  breath 
Forced  soldiers  to  struggle  and  wrestle  with  death. 

Death  seized  on  the  brow  of  the  youth  that  was  fair 
And  ended  in  triumph  his  suffering  there; 
And  many  young  martyrs  were  taken  away 
Their  life    going  out  in  the  camp  where  they  lay  . 

With  close  of  the  summer  of  heat  and  of  rain 

41 


They  struck  all  their  tents  and  travelled  again; 
This  time  at  Savannah,  their  banner  unfurled 
And  all  quite  agreed  they  had  struck  a  new  world. 

The  people  were  loyal,  kind  hearted,  and  true 
To  every  good  soldier  who  sported  the  blue, 
Their  day  of  Thanksgiving  they'll  never  forget 
The  greatest  of  banquets  that  ever  was  set. 

But  pleasures  are  short  at  best  as  they  fly 
And  soon  all  our  boys  bid  Savannah  good-bye. 
They  crossed  over  ocean  and  threw  out  the  chain, 
And  rode  safe  at  anchor  by  wreck  of  The  Maine. 

Through  filthy  Havanna  'twas  never  a  pity 

They  marched  them  eight  mile?  quite  out  of  the  city ; 

And  now  fairly  settled  on  old  Cuban  soil 

They  rested  awhile  from  their  travel  and  toil. 

With  Spaniards  and  Cubans  and  strange  habitations 
They  studied  the  fixtures  and  mixtures  of  nations; 
And  yet  after  all  of  this  foreign  training 
Still  there  was  much  of  the  Yankee  remaining:. 


*&• 


With  four  months  of  duty  in  Cuban  domain 
The  Government  orders  them  homeward  again. 
Imagine  how  lively  they  dance  in  their  shoes 
And  throw  up  their  hats  as  they  welcome  the  news. 

The  band,  with  the  cheering  not  being  outdone 
Paraded  camp  streets  to  the  tune  of  Sweet  Home. 
A  few  days  they  waited  then  marched  to  the  shore 
Embarked  to  return  to  God's  Country  once  more- 

Though  crowded  aboard  of  a  very  small  ship 
In  danger  of  sinking  while  making  the  trip, 

42 


They  breasted  the  billows  for  many  a  mile 
Yet  landed  all  safe  at  the  quarantine  isle. 

All  things  from  the  land  of  our  Cuban  relation 
Must  here  undergo  an  intense  fumigation, 
The  process  delayed  them  some  five  days  or  more 
Before  they  arrived  on  Columbia's  bright  shore. 

Some  weeks  at  Savannah  and  then  homeward  bound 

No  happier  boys  could  ever  be  found; 

And  conscious  of  soldierly  duties  well  done 

They  are  welcomed  to  greetings  and  pleasures  of  home. 


TO     THE     LADIES     OF     SAVANNAH, 
GEORGIA 

In  dreams  of  their  kindred 
And  homes  far  away, 
In  camp  at  Savannah 
The  Seventh  Corps  lay; 

The  call  of  the  bugle 
Arose  on  the  air, 
Interrupting  repose 
And  their  visions  so  fair; 

And  now  of  the  weather 
They  anxiously  pray, 
For  all  of  them  knew 
It  was  Thanksgiving  day. 

Although  cloudless  skies 
The  morning  deposes 
They  little  can  gaess 
What  the  evening  discloses. 

Whatever  camp  duties 
43 


Devolved  on  the  boys, 
The  did  them  quite  willing 
Without  any  noise. 

And  not  a  man  winced 
Or  thought  it  a  pity 
To  see  a  great    storm 
Pouring  out  of  the  city. 

Tornadoes  of  turkeys 
Were  hurled  into  space, 
And  cakes,  frujts  and  flowers 
Kept  up  with  the  pace. 

The  ladies  came  out 
And  showed  they  were  able 
To  settle  the  storm 
Just  over  each  table. 

A  far  better  feast 
Was  provided  for  all 
Then  ever  was  spread 
In  Delmonico's  hall. 

And  those  who  write  history 
This  truth  may  convey 
Fifteen  thousand  soldiers 
Were  conquered  that  day. 

The  Forty-ninth  Iowa 
Shared  in  the  fray; 
Our  brave  Company  F 
Were  "captured"  they  say: 

Yet  we  here  at  home 
Ever  thankful  will  be 

44 


To  the  kind  hearted  people 
'Way  down  by  the  sea. 

Those  patriot  ladies 
So  loyal  and  true 
Will  ne'er  be  forgotten  ' 
By  soldiers  in  blue. 

You  boast  of  the  power 
Of  sword  and  of  pen, 
But  kindness  of  women 
Will  conquer  the  men. 


THE    VACANT     ROOM    OF     OTJR 
SOLDIER    BOY 

There  is  a  room  in  the  house  that  is  silent  and  tenantless 
Just  up  to  the  right  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 
The  occupant  left  us  one  April  spring  morning 
With  the  first  to  respond  to  his  country's  call. 

His  clothes  neatly  brushed  still  hang  in  the  closet 
Hats,  caps  and  cuffs  as  he  left  them  there, 
Papers,  letters,  small  boxes  with  trinkets, 
And  even  the  gloves  he  used  to  wear. 

The  books  and  the  furniture  too  are  the  same 
The  bed  and  the  chair  so  vacant  withal ; 
There's  never  a  sound  or  a  tread  of  his  footstep 
ISTor  any  response  to  the  morning  call. 

The  rays  of  the  morning  peep  in  at  the  casement 
And  fall  on  the  downy  pillow  so  white, 
And  leaves  it  the  same  when  the  evening  sunset 
Sinks  to  repose  in  the  silence  of  night- 

45 


We  long  to  see  shoes  and  collar  and  necktio 
Or  books  and  papers  lying  about 
The  usual  swing  of  the  door  on  its  hinges 
Or  an  echoing  sound  passing  in  and  out. 

Will  he  return  in  the  beautiful  spring  time? 
Or  will  he  come  when  the  May  flowers  blooin, 
And  help  to  deposit  the  sweetest  garlands 
Over  death  stricken  comrades  silent   tomb. 

Let  it  be  in  the  evening  twilight 
Let  it  be  in  the  morning  or  noon, 
We  shall  all  be  anxiously  waiting 
To  welcome  our  gallant  soldier  home. 


PATHETIC    REPLY    TO    THE 

"SILENT    ROOM" 
(By  Ned  Henderson,  Savannah,  Ga.) 

Ken  you  the  room  that  is  silent  at  present? 

Well  open  it !  air  it !  and  furbish  up  things ! 

For  the  tenant  will  home  be,    some  pleasant  May  morning 

On  seagirt  Dunfuskie,  he  now  Home  Again  sings. 

He's  even  now  at  the  doors  of  Savannah; 
Get  the  neatly  brushed  clothes  laid  out  to  his  hand, 
The  hat,  and  the  cuffs,  and  other  adornments, 
That  are  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  youth  of  our  land ; 

Sadly  he'll  need  them  on  arrival  at  Tipton 
After  skirmishing  with  the  quarantine  men ; 
They'll  fumigate,  suffocate,  everything  on  him 
He'll  need  clothes  after  passing  through  the  "fumigate 
den." 


Grieve  not,  at  the  non  response  to  your  calling, 
He's  busy  now  answering  calls  by  the  sea, 
Though  much  he'd  prefer  to  answer  your  hailing 
He's  constrained  now  to  answer  at  dawn  reveille. 

Will  he  come  in  the  spring  time  your  doubtfully  query- 
Yes,  dear  ones ;  he'll  embrace  you  in  a  few  weeks  at  most, 
Have  the  fatted  calf  killed,  and  dress  chickens    and 

turkeys ; 
But  say !  keep  can  beef  out  of  his  sight,  even  should  it 

be  roast. 


OUR     FLAG 

The  flag  of  our  fathers 
Is  worthy  our  care 
As  the  grandest  of  banners 
Unfurled  to  the  air, 

Since  the  same  starry  embler 

Decended  to  us 

Let  no  jealous  eye 

See  it  trail  in  the  dust. 

No  matter  what  happens 
We  always  shall  hope 
Columbia's  children 
Will  keep  it  afloat. 


47 


PROMISCUOUS  POEMS 


THE     PIONEERS 

When  God  in  his  wisdom 
Made  forest  and  plain 
The  river,  the  lake, 
And  the  treacherous  main, 

To  fully  complete 
His  original  plan, 
Took  dust  of  the  earth 
And  created  a  man, 

And  placed  him  alone 
In  garden  and  bowers, 
Then  sent  a  companion 
To  care  for  the  flowers; 

But  this  happy  couple 
Without  a  good  cause, 
Disobeyed   one   command 
In  regard  to  the  laws. 

Then  by  their  transgression 
Were  soon  dispossessed 
And  packing  their  things 
Started  out  for  the  West 

And  so  it  has  been 
With  the  children  of  men ; 
Each  in  their  turn 
Moving  westward  again ; 

48 


Then  crossing  old  ocean 
With  daring  and  zeal, 
They  sought  a  new  empire, 
And  there  a  new  field. 

They  paused  as  they  touched 
On  the  pebbly  strand 
And  offered  up  thanks 
For  the  beautiful  land. 

But  soon  their  good  children, 
Adventurous,  free 
Extended  their  settlements 
Far  from  the  sea. 

The  next  generation 
Ne'er  counted  it  loss, 
Great  mountains  and  riveis 
To  travel  across, 

And  build  up  their  homes 
From  Ohio's  broad  tide 
To  the  great  Northern  lakes 
Extending   so   wide. 

Then  with  fast  fleeting  years 
A  generation  at  best, 
There  came  the  old  story 
"We  must  strike  for  the  west" 

For  the  pride  of  the  west 
In  the  distance  was  seen, 
Like  a  wide  spreading  meadow 
All  covered  with  green ; 

And  the  "Father  of  Waters" 
Could  never  run  dry 

49 


'Till  the  last  pioneer 

Reached  the  "Sweet  Bye  and  Bye. 

The  homes  of  first  settlers 
Somehow  it  would  seem 
Were  built  near  the  forest 
Or  swift  running  stream ; 

But  to  those  who  came  later 
The  vision  appeared 
'Twas  easier  farming 
Where  land  was  all  cleared. 

And  now  my  kind  friends 
While  the  thread  I  pursue 
I  have  come  to  the  time 
I  am  speaking  of  you. 

Having  crossed  the  great  river 
You  came  to  a  stand 
And  staked  off  your  claim 
In  the  "Beautiful  Land." 

With  much  to  encounter 
And  much  to  fulfill, 
A  resolute  purpose 
And  sturdy  good  will. 

You  battled  with  tempest 
And  fever  and  flood, 
And  oft  in  your  travels 
Were  stuck  in  the  mud. 

But  keeping  your  courage 
You  always  allowed 
Behind  the  dark  curtain   . 
There  shone  a  "bright  cloud." 


50 


'T  would  take  many  volumes 
To  fill  up  the  years, 
Your  joys  and  your  sorrows 
Your  smiles  and  your  tears. 

Your  struggles  and  hardships 
And  their  recompense, 
Were  all  wisely  managed 
By  good  common  sense. 

The  while  you  were  toiling 
Both  early  and  late 
You  laid  the  foundation 
And  built  up  a  state. 

A  state  none  the  better 
Was  ever  possessed 
By  any  good  people 
Who  live  in  the  west. 

You  leave  to  your  children 
A  legacy  grand 
We  hope  will  be  cherished 
With  reverent  hand. 

You'll  soon  reach  the  river 
Which  many  have  crossed, 
And  ne'er  may  your  bark 
By  the  tempest  be  tossed ; 

But  land  you  all  safe 
On  the  furthermost  shore, 
To  answer  the  roll 
Of  the  Pioneer  Corps. 

51 


FOB  MY  SIS  TEE'S  GOLDEN  WEDDI 

Away  down  in  the  shadowy  distance 
Of  the  bright  days  that  are  past  and  gone 
There  is  many  a  fond  remembrance 
It  is  pleasant  to  linger  upon. 

When  hopes  beat  high  in  your  bosoma 
And  you  thought  you  had  nothing  to  fear, 
That  the  fragrant  breath  of  the  roses 
Would  continue  throughout  the  year. 

One  pleasant  day  in  the  autumn 
Before  chill  of  the  wintry  weather 
In  heart  and  hand  united 
You  started  life's  journey  together. 

No  journey  ever  so   pleasant 
But  has  trials  along  the  way 
And  many  a  night  of  darkness 
Is  followed  by  beautiful  day. 

You  have    often     thought    of    your  children 
While  they  were  so  long  away, 
But  now  their  pattering  footsteps 
Are  with  you  again  today. 

Your  hearts  beat  high  with  the  pleasure 
Of  having  them  home  again 
They  are  still  those  self -same  children 
Only  grown  to  be  women  and  men. 

They  think  of  your  years  together, 
And  none  of  them  spent  in  vain, 
Your  constant  faith  in  each  other, 
A  solace  for  every  pain. 

52 


Though  Fifty  years  together 
And  travelling  down  the  slope, 
That  your  years  may  yet  be  many, 
We  trust  with  a  fervent  hope : 

And  when  you  have  crossed  the  river 
And  safe  on  the  other  shore, 
May  that  life  be  always  sunshine, 
And  happy  for  evermore. 


*     * 


APPEAL  OF  THE  OLD  BELL  TO  FORMER  MEMBERS 
OF  TIPTON  UNION  SCHOOL 

Come  gather  round  ye  schoolmates  gray 
And  let  us  spend  a  holiday 
Come  out  into  the  open  air 
And  banish  every  earthly  care 
Let  joyful  greeting  here  abound 
And  music  reign  with  sweetest  sound 
And  every  time  the  chorus  swell 
By  ringing  out  the  old  school  bell. 

Your  feet  were  lithe  and  glib  my  tongue 
In  days  when  you  and  I  were  young; 
I  reigned  as  with  a  royal  crown, 
But  time  decreed  I  "must  come  down;" 
Since  then  I've  lived  in  sad  disgrace 
Shut  up  in  some  secluded  place; 
But  now  am  out  to  hear  you  tell 
How  you  revere  your  old  school  bell. 

Your  steps  have  wandered  far  I  ween 
Since  days  yon  played  upon  the  green ; 

53 


A  few  have  lingered  here  and  wait 
And  open  out  the  wicket  gate 
In  welcome  to  each  heart  and  soul 
That  come  and  answer  to  the  roll 
But  many  more  'tis  sad  to  tell 
Will  never  answe  to  the  bell. 

Their  graves  are  scattered  far  and  wide 
From  prairie  land     to  ocean  tide 
A  number  of  that  noble  band 
Lost  life  and  limb  in  Southern  land, 
But  few  out  of  the  Forty  told 
Who  answered  to  the  muster  roll, 
Are  left  their  hardships  here  to  tell 
And  answer  to  their  old  school  bell. 

Now  teachers,  scholars,  all  that  will 

Have  parts  allotted  to  fulfill, 

Each  of  you  have  some  pleasant  home 

While  I  am  left  to  live  alone. 

Now  don't  you  think  it  would  be  fair 

In  my  old  age  to  give  me  care, 

And  let  no  stranger  ever  tell 

You  have  no  home  for  Your  Old  Bell. 


FOR     McKINLEY     CAMPAIGN 

The  hosts  that  gather  'round  about 
Have  rent  the  air  with  joyful  shout 
Let  every  form  be  palsied,  dead 
Who  on  fair  freedom's  banner  tread. 

Let  fiendish  Anarchism  rife 
No  more  renew  its  lease  of  life, 

54 


Let  labor  bring  its  just  reward 
And  howling  demagogues  ignored. 

Who  teach  the  worthless  money  craze 
Throughout  the  coming  autumn  days., 
Let  every  tongue  the  truth  impart 
And  swell  with  pride  the  nation's  heart. 

Protection's  aim  and  noble  cause 
Shall  be  sustained  by  wholesome  laws. 
Let  Union  sailors  motto  be 
America  on  every  sea. 

Ring  out  the  shout  with  loud  acclaim 
From  Western  Sea  to  Coast  of  Maine ; 
While  from  the  Gulf  an  echo- flies 
Clear  out  across  the  iSTorthern  skies. 

Let  every  voice  unite  as  one 
And  shout  for  freedom's  loyal  son, 
McKinley  shall  our  leader  be 
And  crown  our  glorious  victory. 


ABE    •  L  I  ST  0  O  L  N 

Who  argued  well  for  fredom's  cause 
And  advocated  better  laws 
To  stay  the  tyrant's  swelling  powers 
That  grappled  with  this  land  of  ours 
And  crushed  the  poor  man  and  the  slave 
With  an  increasing  tidal  wave  ? 
Abe  Lincoln. 

Who  issued  forth  the  grand  decree 
55 


All  colored  folks  should  hence  be  free 
From  ocean  unto  ocean's  wave 
No  banner  float  above  a  slave 
And  all  our  nation  must  agree 
For  equal  rights  and  liberty  ? 
Abe  Lincoln. 


HUMOROUS    PAKODY    ON 
WASHINGTON 

(Old  School  book  pictures  his  hatchet  like  an  ax.) 

While  Washington  was  very  young 
And  while  his  nerves  were  yet  unstrung, 
He  grasped  his  ax,  its  blade  to  try 
And  tried  it  on  a  tree  near  by. 

He  chopped  away  with  might  and  main 

Until  the  tree  was  lowly  lain; 

To  ply  the  ax  was  royal  fun 

Until  he  thought  what  he  had  done. 

And  as  the  tear  sprang  to  his  eye 
He  sobbed  good  bye  to  cheery  p:e; 
And  left  the  spot  a  wiser  boy 
While  sadness  took  the  place  of  joy. 

The  father  passed  along  the  way 
To  where  the  boy  had  been  at  play, 
And  when  he  saw  what  had  been  done 
He  went  and  called  his  favorite  son; 

"My  boy"  he  said,  you  plainly  see 
Some  one  has  cut  that  splendid  tree," 

56 


The  lad  replied  "I  cannot  lie" 
"You  bought  that  ax  for  me  to  try." 


*     * 


TOAST 

"Here's  to  the  years  that  are  stretching  ahead 
To  the  days  that  are  blithsome  and  gay, 
May  the  joys  of  the  old  be  the  joys  of  the  new 
And  the  sorrows  fade  gently  away." 

RESPONSE 

Like  a  soft  gentle  breeze 
Springing  up  from  the  past 
And  dispelling  the  gloom 
From  a  sky  overcast, 

So  the  thoughts  of  the  days 
That  forever  have  fled, 
Give  strength  to  our  courage 
And  lead  us  ahead. 

May  naught  but  the  sunshine 
Appear  to  our  view 
While  life's  pleasant  valley 
WeVe  travelling  through 

May  neither  the  prophet 
The  seer  nor  the  sage 
Discourage  the  thoughts 
Of  a  happy  old  age. 

57 


WRITTEN  FOR  BOOK  OF 
QUOTATIONS 

While  shifting  along 
Through  this  valley  of  sorrow, 
Corn  meal  or  brown  coffee 
Are  easy  to  borrow ; 

And  nuggets  of  wisdom 
You  freely  dispense 
By  using  quotations 
At  others  expense. 

Corn  meal  or  brovm  coffee 
Are  easily  earned 
But  borrowed  quotations 
Are  seldom  returned. 


FOR      THE     AGED 

An  act,  a  word  to  cheer  us  on 
O'er  life's  tempestuous  seas, 
Are  cherished  from  the  days  agone 
As  pleasant  memories. 

To  grasp  the  hand  and  hear  the  voice 
Still  filled  with  joyful  praise 
Brings  back  our  youth  and  aids  our  strength 
In  our  declining  days. 


FOR    LEAP    YEAR 

The   Recording  Angel 
Has  his  busy  days, 

58 


And  don't  always  take  note 
Of  the  different  ways, 

That  humanity's  history 
Often  discloses 
Of  the  courage  or  doubt 
Of  the  one  who  proposes; 

Yet  it  makes  little  odds 
In  the  usual  plan, 
Whether  man  asks  the  woman 
Or  woman  the  man. 


CHRISTMAS 

Hail  Christmas  day  of  all  the  year 
We  gladly  know  you're  drawing  near 
And  while  it  brings  good  lessons  all 
To  young  and  old  and  great  and  small, 

This  day  of  all  to  us  was  given 
To  bring  us  all  more  near  to  Heaven: 
"Peace  on  earth,  good  will  toymen" 
And  truth  and  justice  ever  reign. 


59 


State  Printing  Co..    Lincoln,    Nebraska. 


MBRAHY 


GAYLAMOUNT 
PAMPHLET  BINDER 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below 


-<VO. 


Patriotic  and 


J 


PS 
35 
V,3312p 


10m-ll,'50(2555)470 
I 


